“Europe is united and has once again become an economic powerhouse. It’s only a matter of time before the euro outpaces the dollar in value. All I’m doing is expediting the inevitable,” Ungar replied. “When I dump billions upon billions of dollars’ worth of undervalued U.S. currency into the money markets, the Saudis and the Chinese will have no choice but to follow suit, and the sell-off will begin.”
“Then the euro will replace the dollar as the world standard,” the Albino concluded.
“And the United States will collapse into a mire of poverty from which it will never emerge. The balance of power will shift in Europe’s favor once again, as it was meant to be.”
The Albino chuckled. “A brave new world.”
“Indeed,” Ungar replied. “Who knows? In the twenty-first century, the poverty-stricken citizens of the new Third World America may welcome a modern wave of European colonialists. Then they can dine off the crumbs that fall from our tables.”
7. THE FOLLOWING TAKES PLACE BETWEEN THE HOURS OF 1:00 P.M. AND 2:00 P.M. EASTERN DAYLIGHT TIME
The eighty-eight martyrs squatted in subdued silence inside the dining hall. Tables and chairs had been cleared away and replaced by prayer rugs, dutifully positioned so the supplicants would face Mecca. Old men and young boys served them strong, bitter tea sweetened with honey.
Farshid Amadani — the man they called “the Hawk” — wisely abstained, though he waited with the rest for their spiritual leader to address them from the raised platform at the front of the room.
Earlier that morning, the martyrs had bid their final goodbyes to their families. They’d completed their ritual cleansing in the communal showers, and donned overalls and shoes that had never been worn. With skullcaps on their shorn heads, the men then proceeded to the mosque to pray.
Precisely at noon, Farshid Amadani had gone to the house of worship to collect them. Single file, he had led the procession out of the mosque and into one of the underground tunnels. He had marched them through a long, low-ceilinged corridor to a spacious chamber inside the main bunker.
There he had showed them what had been done to the infidel woman captured on their property the day before.
As their paramilitary trainer, the Hawk had been impressed by the martyrs’ reactions.
He’d expected the older men — all felons convicted of violent crimes — to show no emotion when the miserable remains of the woman were displayed, and they did not disappoint him. But even the younger men, those who had not yet spilled blood, had hardened their hearts sufficiently to gaze at the grisly remains without flinching.
The Hawk noticed movement in the kitchen, and he knew Ibrahim Noor would soon appear. He settled onto his prayer rug and waited for their spiritual leader to arrive.
From his vantage point behind a curtain that separated the dining hall from the kitchen, Ibrahim Noor watched his martyrs.
A powerfully built African American in his forties, Noor wore a skullcap over his shaven head. The prayer shawl on his broad shoulders did not cover the jailhouse tattoos that crisscrossed his bull neck, and his holy man’s robes — a loose-fitting
Noor waited for the powerful beverage to take effect before he deigned to make an appearance. Meanwhile the men nervously gulped cup after cup of the bitter brew, a concoction of tea laced with amphetamines and mingled with the same powerful steroids that had been pumped into his disciples since paramilitary exercises began many months ago.
The amphetamines were a stimulant created for, and then rejected by the NATO forces because they caused psychotic episodes. It had been supplied by Erno Tobias and his employer, the Swiss-based firm Rogan Pharmaceuticals. The food and water stored inside the trucks were laced with the same chemical. The dangerous potion would send his Warriors of God to the very edge of reason, where the urge to kill would be strong.
Already Noor observed the effects of the drug. After a few minutes the men began to perspire, then fidget on their prayer rugs. Voices became loud, almost shrill. Soon the drug-induced tension was palpable — then almost unbearable.
When the moment was right, Noor stepped through the curtains and mounted the platform. An almost fearful silence greeted him, all eyes following the massive man as he stepped up to the podium.
After an opening prayer, during which Noor seemed to slip into an almost mystical trance, the holy man opened his eyes again, and his intense gaze swept the room. There were men of many races present — Middle Easterners, Albanians, Afghanis, and Saudis among them — but the vast majority of the men in this room were African Americans, former inmates of the Federal and state prison systems.
“The Imam Ali Rahman al Sallifi sends his regards and his blessings to you, his
Noor began, his voice so low that men in the back of the room strained to hear him.
“The Imam wants you to know that with our actions and our sacrifices this day and in days to come, the world will take its first step on the long road to
Both cheers and imprecations greeted Noor’s words.
Men cried out in praise of God and the Imam, while they cursed the Great Satan America and her evil, godless allies.
When the walls began to shake from their cries, Noor waved the men to silence, then his own voice boomed.
“To you, my
“This world does not want you, the Imam said. Because this world is diseased and decadent, it has no place for the Faithful. This world has no place for
Noor paused; his expression darkened.
“I wept when I heard those words because I knew they were true, and you know they are true, too. From the womb to the ghetto to the Great Satan’s jails, that is the path the godless have set out for us! A path as deadly as the slavery they inflicted on our ancestors!”
Boos and catcalls greeted Noor’s words.
“But do not despair, the Imam told me that day. Do not despair, Ibrahim, he said, because Allah wants you, and He has a special place in Paradise for all of His faithful servants…”
Noor’s voice trailed off, until they feared he would say no more. But suddenly he cried out, the sound of his mighty voice shaking the rafters.
“It’s
The wild shouts swelled in volume, until they battered the ears of every man in the room. With difficulty, Noor waved the martyrs to silence.
“Today you will secure a place in Paradise. By defend-ing the only true faith, you will take your place in a long line of martyrs,” Noor continued. “Like our brothers in Palestine, in Sri Lanka, in Pakistan, in Egypt, and in Saudi Arabia, you will find favor with Allah, and you will never be forgotten.”
Noor paused, as if to collect his thoughts.
